Bus Driver
by Jeune Chat
Summary: [ladyisme's Homecoming Fallout challenge]  Ron Wilson was the happiest man alive after Homecoming.  Then he was hit by deadly toxic waste.  Then things got even better!


**Author's Note: **This is in response to ladyisme's "Homecoming Fallout" challenge, reproducted below:

(1) Time frame: I assume the dance was on a Friday so your story can be anywhere from that night through the following Monday.

(2) No Romance: This can not be a love story although I will allow the passing mention of couples so long as they are in the canon. Example: Will/Layla, Zak/Magenta, Mr. Stronghold/Mrs. Stronghold

(3) Named Characters: Your main characters must be characters that were named in the canon. Example: Baron Battle can be used Ice Girl can't. Even though Barron Battle never appeared in the movie, he was still named in the movie and so he can be used, while the ice girl warren danced with was not named and so can't be used as a main character.

(4) Bonus Points: Bonus points are given for use of one of the side characters. Example: Mr. Boy

(5) Unnamed and Original Characters: Unnamed or even original characters may be use in passing just not as the main characters

I have decided my plot bunnies are vicious and come complete with nasty big pointy teeth! This one poked me until I wrote it. Just a short little piece detailing a bit of what it's like to "grow up..."

* * *

**Bus Driver**

He'd never wash his hand again. He, Ron Wilson, bus driver, had had his hand shaken by The Commander and Jetstream. Themselves. Not to mention their son, who had saved school, along with all his friends. Their son, who he, Ron Wilson, bus driver, knew _personally._ And they had let Ron keep the trophy for helping save the school.

He, Ron Wilson, bus driver, had helped saved Sky High from a dastardly supervillain attack. And the greatest heroes in the world had _thanked _him. In front of witnesses! Never had any man been so happy. Not when he had seen Jetstream fly over his house when he was fifteen. Not when his own mom had saved Maxville from the Ice King when he was little. Not even later when he had gotten this job. But tonight, he was the happiest man alive.

Perhaps that's why he hadn't been watching the roads as closely as he could have.

It struck Ron as very comical how narrow the margin could be for safety could be in seemingly mundane situations. He certainly knew the risks of flying the Sky High school bus. Fighter pilots didn't have the skills he had. _They_ only had to fly. _He_ had to transport the next generation of superheroes. But after driving the bus to the parking lot after Homecoming, he still had to drive home in his own car.

And that's when the truck hit.

* * *

He woke sometime later, staring at a roof. Two second later he realized it was the roof of Maxville Stadium. But it seemed very close. And very, very small…

"Whoa!" he exclaimed bolting upright. He hit his head on the roof, on the very small roof, and heard steel snapping; though his head hurt no more than if he had bumped it on the roof of the bus.

"Ron Wilson! Please don't move!" someone yelled, their voice distorted by a bullhorn. Obedient to the voice, Ron warily looked down. Several stories' worth of down.

Somewhere by his ankle (which was glowing green, he noted with mild confusion), stood the Maxville chief of police, the director of Maxville's transportation department, the local director for the Bureau of Superhero Affairs, and Principal Powers. His ankle, Ron couldn't help but notice, was at least as tall as the people standing next to it.

So either he was really, really big, or everyone else had shrank. Had the Dollmaker hit Maxville?

"Ron Wilson, can you understand me?" the police chief called.

Ron was about to nod, but thought better of it.

"Yes sir. Um, what happened?" he asked very quietly.

The impatient transportation director snatched the bullhorn from the police chief.

"Mr. Wilson, you were hit by a semi carrying toxic waste!" he said. "I'm terribly sorry!"

_Toxic waste?_ he thought frantically.

Ron didn't move his head, but his eyes darted over the parts of himself that he could see. No blood, no casts, no burns, not even a scrape! Other than the fact that he was a hundred feet tall and glowing, he felt perfectly fine.

But he _was_ a hundred feet tall. And that was definitely new.

More than one superhero had gotten powers from toxic waste. Ron knew that for a fact; he knew more about superheroes than some superheroes did! Son of Star Nova and the Amazon Queen, he'd been immersed in the superhero world since birth. So he hadn't been born with any powers, he was still closer to the hero world than most people ever dreamed.

He did still dream about being one of them though. He knew all the moves, practicing with his broom to perfect them, all the catchphrases, and all the right things to say. He was practically the superheroes' superhero! Except he didn't have any powers. The closest he had come was last night (or whenever that had been). He had been a real hero for once, not just a polite pretender.

Was fate finally throwing him a bone?

"Am I ok?" he asked finally.

The Bureau director took the bullhorn next.

"We've had the scientists as the Bureau examine your blood Mr. Wilson. It seems you're a very lucky man. Most people would have died from the massive exposure to toxins. But it seems you're one of the lucky few whose body can handle it."

Ron felt a grin stretching across his face that threatened to split his head in two.

"You've developed superpowers, Mr. Wilson, the ability to super-size yourself. It seems stable, but we've had you under observation for the last three days to make sure. How do you feel Mr. Wilson?"

"I feel great director!" Ron almost scared himself with his own voice. Louder than any PA, it was like a surround sound stereo pumped up to max with the subwoofer on overdrive. He practically sounded as loud as Coach Boomer!

His guests winced and covered their ears, but the Bureau director was smiling broadly.

Principal Powers took the bullhorn next.

"Ron, I know you've always wanted to be a superhero, and working at Sky High was the closest you could get. You've always had the right stuff, always had the drive and desire to help. I have someone I want you to meet. This is Brian Briggs, the mayor of Maxville."

Ron didn't think his grin could get any wider, but his cheeks were practically starting to hurt now as the mayor stepped forward and took over from Principal Powers.

"Mr. Wilson, I must confess to you we have a terrible problem with giant robots in this city. The Commander and Jetstream do a fine job, but they cannot be everywhere at once. Could you help the citizens of Maxville?"

"The Bureau would be glad to help you Mr. Wilson. I think you'll find everything you need," the Bureau director piped up, nodding at something off to one side. Turning, Ron saw his faithful old broom, now proportionately sized and covered in… rivets?

"We figured steel and titanium with some tungsten carbide reinforcement would suit your new job a little better," he added. Ron reached out very carefully, now conscious of his size, to take his new weapon in hand. He could feel the power now, how easy it would be to punch through the steel and stone walls. And how very satifying it would be to see those giant robots, the scourge of Maxville, going down under his soon-to-be-patented one-two-three-roundhouse sidekick helicopter backhand sweep!

"We're changing a lot of things at Sky High Ron," Principal Powers spoke up. "But we hope you wouldn't mind coming back from time to time. You're still the best driver we have."

"Well, every superhero," Ron said, his heart swelling with pride that he could now include himself in those ranks, "has to have a cover job, right?"

"Of course Ron."

"Then Mayor, I accept," said Ron Wilson, also a bus driver.


End file.
